Rose Mierlo Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

Met this one gal—Daisy, she called herself—worked the docks in ‘44. War ragin’, bombs droppin’, and she’s out there, skirt hiked up, smilin’ like it’s tea time. Gutsy as hell—made me happy, that grit! Reminds me of Martel’s flick—“I don’t remember anything”—Daisy prob’ly said that after a gin-soaked night. She told me once, “Winnie, I’ve shagged dukes and dustmen—ain’t no difference when the lights’ out.” Laughed my arse off—truth in that, eh?

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So, I’m strolling down the Kerkstraat, right? Just vibin’, listening to some tunes. Then BAM! I see this cute little café, De Molen. I’m like, “Yo, I gotta grab a coffee.” I walk in, and it’s packed! Like, who knew Mierlo had this many coffee lovers? I’m waiting in line, and this dude in front of me spills his drink all over the counter. I’m like, “Dude, really?” But then he starts cracking jokes, and suddenly, we’re all laughing. Mierlo magic, I guess?

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